Untitled Pezberry
by FoxChaos
Summary: Santana will do anything to protect Rachel, even if it means hurting the both of them it seems. Luckily, Santana's not as sneaky as she likes to think. At least not when it comes to her girlfriend's sixth sense. Pezberry.


_Author: Foxchaos_

_Fandom: Glee (of which I do not own, nor its characters)_

_Pairing: Pezberry_

_Word Count: Not quite 2000_

_A/N: This wasn't meant to be as serious as it turned out. Not that it's super serious, but it's also not the comedy I thought it was going to be when I thought of the first few parts of the Berry Rant while walking to class. Oh well. Sassy!Rachel will have to come later I suppose. Perhaps in the next installment. Whenever I figure out what that is. Obviously some kind of AU. Or something. _

—-

It took Santana exactly four rings of the doorbell and three interspersed knocks to finally get up from her wallowing on the livingroom couch to answer the front door. She didn't know who was there, but she swore to herself that if it was anyone but Brittany she was going to slap them so hard their head would spin off.

She was just not in the mood for lectures after the shitty day she had been put through.

As the doorbell rang out again she grabbed the knob hard and all but threw the barricade wide open, bitch face in place and fully prepared to go _all _Lima Heights on whoever's sorry ass had dared disturbed her.

"Hello, Santana."

And with that Snix was shut down. _Hard_.

Before the Cheerio could utter a word in reply Rachel Berry was gliding past her and into the house, head held high and smile firmly set across her lips. Which was weird because Santana was pretty sure she had left the smaller teen in tears not three hours ago…

Closing the door, the taller brunette turned to face the diva, who had spun around (over)dramatically to face her as well, her hands behind her back and the smile still there. It… sort of scared her. If, you know, it was possible to scare her. Santana opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by a raised hand from the other girl.

"I'll admit, Santana, that were I not a rigorously trained and highly proficient actor, your performance today would have most certainly fooled me," said Rachel, her voice oddly cheery and her smile widening. Almost like she was… proud…? Santana blinked, went to speak again, but was once more cut-off by the smaller girl. "However, because I am, in fact, so well versed in the ways of artistic deception, and being blessed with an infallible sixth sense, I have been able to see through your finely honed ploy. Thus, I am here."

Blinking a few times once more, and slowly nodding her head, the Cheerio could only stare, brows furrowed and the corners of her mouth ticked down. What the hell was going on?

Completely undeterred, Rachel went on, now striding purposefully a few steps to one side, then the other, as she began what Santana was sure was a well-practiced and thoroughly thought out Berry-rant.

"You see, Santana, it occurred to me that while your act was perfectly executed and your words sufficiently harsh, easily touching upon all my deepest insecurities and most dreaded fears regarding our relationship-"

"-Wait what-"

"that something was clearly off." Rachel raised a finger. "First, you chose a very public and crowded place, that being the school's main hallway, to humiliate me. The goal, clearly, to have as many people see it as possible. Second," another finger. "You deliberately spoke loudly. Very loudly. Once again assuring that everyone but the most deaf, with no offense meant to the hearing impaired, would be privy to the conversation. Third, and this is the important one," she turned to face Santana full on, "you not only slushied me, but chose my absolute least favorite flavor of all time. After all that you threw the cup away, as opposed to throwing it to the ground, and, instead of going to Brittany and Quinn, headed straight for the school doors. You also failed to attend Glee. Which normally I would consider irresponsible but in this case I will let it slide."

Santana had slowly made her way to the nearest seat, her eyes never leaving the small singer's pacing form, as her brain tried valiantly to process everything that was being said. She swallowed thickly, unsure why she was suddenly feeling so much emotion all at once (and so many _different_ emotions at that), because everything felt completely different than it had 20 minutes ago. It felt a little like relief, and hope, and maybe like everything wasn't ruined forever. When Rachel turned to face her, staring expectantly, the cheerleader, for two seconds, tried to scowl; to bring her walls up—anything.

She couldn't.

She didn't want to.

Rachel seemed to know that, though. The diva nodded, smiled, and calmly went to straddle Santana's lap. She took the other girl's hands in her own and set them on her hips, then placed her hands on the Cheerio's shoulder. "Santana," she started. And the girl looked up slightly to meet the singer's eyes. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Santana shrugged. She did. Maybe. But she didn't want to assume anything. Not after what she had done. Rachel continued to smile at her, her hands now moving to allow her thumbs to softly stroke the taller girl's neck.

"You don't like arguing in public when it's actually about you. You're too closed off. And you hate when people try to get 'all up in your business' as you've told me so many times before. When you have real emotions about something, you prefer to talk about it in private. Both in setting and in volume. You also only know my least favorite slushie flavor because when one of the hockey players used it on me I threw up, and you gave him a black eye along with nearly dislocating his jaw. As well, you are very aware of how much I hate littering." Rachel took a deep breath. "Finally, you only skip Glee when you don't want anyone to see something you know you won't be able to hide. In this case, I imagine it was something akin to hurt, regret, guilt, and perhaps fear. How am I doing so far?" asked Rachel.

Swallowing thickly again, Santana managed to force out a choked, "Good." She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and they just got worse when Rachel's thumb pads moved to gently wipe away a few of the tears that had started to fall.

"After you left, I went to the auditorium and cried quite a lot," admitted the small diva. "I yelled, and I cursed, and called you several words that I regret, and will not repeat." She took a deep breath. "And then of course Kurt found me, and he let me cry some more, but eventually he told me to stop being so dramatic and actually think about what had happened. For once I took his advice, only yelling at him for a minute. I also refrained from storming out. I like to think you'd be proud of me for that."

Santana's chuckle was mixed with a heavy sob, but the smile from Rachel she got in return made her feel a little better about it.

"I also skipped Glee. Which, well, now you know the real reason I can't be mad at you for doing so." Rachel looked down now, her long hair curtaining the sides of her face as her hands went to play with the hem of Santana's Cheer Camp shirt. "I went home as soon as last period ended, and I thought about everything," continued Rachel. "I thought about the hesitance between every cruel nickname you spat at me, about how you kept yourself in front of me so that the other students couldn't actually see my face as you spoke. I thought about how your hands shook as you held the slushie, and how you also hesitated a full three seconds before you threw it. I also thought about how you couldn't stop from glancing to the left every two sentences, and that when one of the jocks tried to high-five you, you punched him in the crotch."

Rachel slowly moved her hands just under the bottom of the shirt, cool fingers sliding gently over the warm skin. It made Santana shiver slightly, but she didn't look down. She kept her eyes on what she could see of Rachel's face.

"Then… then I thought about us." The singer swallowed audibly. "I thought about how you hold me at night, like if you loosen your hold at all I'll disappear. I remembered the hours you spent curled up with me on the couch watching Funny Girl and eating Rice Cream just because I had a bad day and you wanted to make me feel better. And… And I also thought about how you tense up whenever Rick the Stick walks by. And I realized it's not because you're afraid of what he could do or say to you anymore, but what he would do or say to me. About me."

Reaching one hand up, Rachel slid her fingers through Santana's dark hair. "And, finally, I remembered that three days ago, Finn and Puck saw you having what appeared to be a very heated argument with said hockey captain, before you walked away. You were on edge since, and you both refused to speak with me, while at the same time refused to let me out of your sight. I admit, I was thoroughly frustrated, and, yes, hurt."

Santana couldn't hold herself together anymore. She started sobbing.

In seconds she pulled Rachel tightly to her, arms wrapping around the diva's waist and back, and completely came undone against the crook of the smaller girl's neck. Rachel held her; hushing all the apologies she choked out and simply continued to run her fingers reassuringly through the distraught girl's hair. Moments later Santana moved them, hands going under Rachel's thighs as she carried her the short distance from the chair to the couch. She laid Rachel down, covering her small body with her own, and drew her into a deep, desperate kiss. Rachel returned the kiss fully, matching her emotion for emotion as the cheerleader tried speaking with her body instead of her words.

The singer seemed to understand the language, though, because she understood Santana. And, the Cheerio realized, she had never been more grateful for that fact than right now.

They kissed and they kissed, and Santana's hands moved everywhere, even as her thigh settled between Rachel's own. It didn't take long for her to have Rachel panting beneath her, rolling her hips against her leg and arching her chest into her hands. Santana had a lot to say, Rachel always seemed to know how to respond, and both were desperate to renew a connection that had almost been lost completely.

A few hours later Santana was laying on her side next to a flushed and heavily breathing Rachel Berry, who remained on her back. The Cheerio had one arm over the girl's naked waist, the other supporting the diva's head. Both were silent for a time, until, as usual, the smaller brunette spoke as soon as she had caught her breath.

"Tell me what Rick said to you, Santana." And though her voice was soft, it left no room for argument. Santana chuckled, nuzzling the girl's cheek.

"After I take you out for dinner," she whispered back in reply, voice still low with buzzing arousal.

Pouting, Rachel looked over to her, her own dark eyes meeting warm, chocolate brown. "Promise."

Santana nodded, leaning in to steal one last kiss before they both were to get up and get ready to go out to eat. "I promise."


End file.
